


Creepy Crawler

by Britty



Category: Rob Zombie (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Desk Sex, Drama, Dressing Room Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Smut, Teasing, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 03:03:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13309077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Britty/pseuds/Britty
Summary: John questions the behaviour of his bandmate.





	Creepy Crawler

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [I'm Your Boogieman](https://youtu.be/29MJDf6-Phs) by White Zombie.

"Hey man!" Piggy boomed as he plopped down on a chair across from John, who ceased his guitar playing and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Before he could speak his reply, Piggy smiled and presented a small object in his hand. "Check it out."

John squinted as he studied the shiny ball-like object in the other man's hand. It was all black, a single white circle in the centre that had the number eight boldly imprinted on it. He hummed when he recognized the item to be a billiard ball, then he tilted his head and blinked.

"Why do you have a billiard ball?" he asked.

"Ah, it's not just any billiard ball," Piggy informed, then he rotated the ball to reveal a small window on the bottom of it. "It's a Magic 8 Ball!"

Piggy beamed as if he'd just presented the most magnificent thing in the world. John couldn't help but laugh at that. He was a bit surprised that Piggy would have such an item, but he supposed that the man was just more in touch with his inner child, as he was the youngest in the band and all.

"So..." John returned to playing his guitar, fingerpicking a familiar tune. "Where'd you get it?"

"At the thrift shop," Piggy answered. "It's practically new. I got it for like ten bucks."

"Cool." John nodded in acknowledgement. "Does it work?"

Instead of answering him directly, Piggy shook the ball and looked into the little window. " _Yes._ "

To Piggy's oblivion, John abruptly stopped playing his guitar and pinched the bridge of his nose in disbelief. He had meant the functionality of the toy, not its hocus-pocus crap. Rather than rephrase his question, John decided to let the pig slide (pun intended) and leave the man to his newfound entertainment. He just hoped that Piggy wouldn't use the thing to make his decisions for him. Or worse, go to it for knowledge.

He went back to practicing his skills while Piggy continued to play with his novelty toy like a small child. However, Piggy's little mumbles and ball shakings were a bit distracting to John, and he was curious as to what the man-child was asking the stupid thing.

Taking another pause from his guitar playing, John harrumphed. "What are you asking the ball?" he asked.

"Questions," Piggy replied absentmindedly.

John rolled his brown eyes. "Like what?" he pressed.

"Will something weird happen tonight?" Piggy asked the ball and shook it; then he read the answer aloud. " _Definitely._ "

Once again, John rolled his eyes, then shook his head with a small laugh. "Well shut my mouth, that ball knows _everything._ Why don't you ask it if pigs will fly next?" he scoffed. It wasn't his intention to be snarky, but when it came to these sorts of things, he just found it all to be nothing more than meaningless garbage, being the rational man he was.

Piggy glared at him with narrowed eyes. John knew that look. He raised his nose, challenging Piggy to state his argument.

"How about _you_ ask it something instead?" Piggy countered.

John blinked. That wasn't what he had expected. "What?"

"Ask the ball a question of your own," Piggy repeated, a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

John opened and closed his mouth in a perfect imitation of a useless fish. He had no idea how to approach this. He wanted to be logical and point out the sheer ridiculousness of the subject matter, but goddammit, he was too much of a nice guy to do that. Rationality be damned. With a heavy sigh, that sounded more like a growl, he conceded. It was easier to go along with Piggy's nonsense than to argue his skepticism about said nonsense.

"Fine, I'll bite." John scowled when Piggy grinned at him. _That smug bastard._

"Great! So what is your question, dear ol' John?" Piggy asked. John scowled harder at him. Piggy ignored it. "Well?"

John clicked his tongue and sighed. He cursed himself for falling into this hokum. "Give me a sec to think."

A line formed between his brows as he searched his brain for a question to ask the Magic 8 Ball. He considered asking it something mundane, wanting to get the subject done and over with, but he suspected that Piggy wouldn't accept that and demand him to ask a proper question. His mind drifted, and he somehow started to think about fishes — then it came to him.

"Okay, I have one," John announced. Piggy perked up with interest. John thought that was a bit too much interest. He pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling ridiculous, but he carried on. "Is Ginger all right in the head?"

Piggy squinted at John for a moment, then shrugged; probably deeming the question worthy. He shook the little ball, then looked into the window and immediately barked out a laugh.

"What?" John demanded, wondering what the answer was.

Still laughing, Piggy replied, "It says, _I don't know._ " John barked out a laugh of his own after that.

Despite his skepticism towards the thing, that answer was pretty accurate in John's book. Not that he would admit it aloud, of course. His reason for questioning the mentality of his fellow bandmate, Ginger, was because of his behaviour throughout the day, who had been more quiet and impassive than usual. John typically wouldn't have thought much of that, but when the quiet drummer disappeared out of the blue, he had to wonder.

It had been a couple of hours since anyone had last seen Ginger, who had been roller-skating around the arena at the time, an activity he liked to do when on tour, but there was something off about his demeanour. He had his head bowed, arms folded behind his back, and his face void of any expression; all the while he aimlessly skated along like nothing. There was an air of absence to him, almost robot-like, as though he were on autopilot.

John had known Ginger for a long time, and based on his past experiences with this behaviour, he deduced that Ginger was in one of his 'moods'.

This change in behaviour was something that happened to Ginger from time to time, a phenomenon that would occur quite sporadically and spontaneously, making them unpredictable and rendering him into bizarre behaviours. Ginger had always been a strange fellow, but when his moods arose, his whole demeanour became noticeably different. For one, Ginger would become just as quiet, just as impassive, and even more strange than he usually was. And then there was the weird shit he tended to do when in this state; like restlessly playing the piano while wearing a Pinky and the Brain costume, calling people in the middle of the night to ask them if he could have their shower curtain, or just lying on the floor completely naked. Thankfully, his moods don't last too long, only a few hours or so, a day at the most. Because of this bizarre occurrence, it was an unspoken agreement that Ginger was to be left alone until he reverted to his same old self, even if his same old self-was still weird as fuck.

John and Piggy continued talking for the next half hour until they were told by their manager to get ready for the show. After a few more exchange of words, Piggy went off to check his equipment while John went off to change for the event.

~*~*~

When John arrived at the dressing room that he and Ginger shared, he found the door halfway open, indicating that the room was either occupied or vacant. John supposed it was the latter, but he had to be sure of that.

"Hello?" he called from outside the room and waited for a response.

Nothing.

With a shrug, John proceeded to enter the room. It was nearly dark inside, the only source of light was from the many bulbs on the vanity. The dressing room didn't have a light switch or any lamps, so John had to work with what he had. He closed the door behind him and locked it, which wasn't necessary for him to do, but he wasn't too keen on having a random person walk in on him while he was getting ready. It was a bit of a feminine tendency of his. He walked up to the vanity that had a bunch of miscellaneous things piled on top of it, and he quickly skimmed through the many foundations to ensure that what he needed was there. Satisfied, John looked up at his reflection in the mirror and sighed.

_Time to Rock and Roll._

He ruffled up his neatly combed hair until it was a messy blond nest, then he walked over to the nearby couch where his stuff rested, removing his layers of shirts as he went. Once he was topless, John carelessly tossed his clothes onto the couch and grabbed his bag to retrieve his stage attire. Just as he was about to zip it open, John heard a small _creak_ come from behind him, and before he could react, he was promptly grabbed by the shoulders and pulled back.

Startled, John yelped and tried to pull away, only to have a muscular arm wrap itself around his middle, preventing him from escape. Alarmed, he began to struggle in protest, yelling and spitting out expletives like a Quentin Tarantino film, but the stranger promptly cupped their hand firmly over his mouth, muffling his screams. John was then lifted off his feet by a few inches, and then he was being dragged backwards by his attacker, reversing until they were right in front of the mirror.

John directed his eyes to the stranger's reflection and saw that it was a man, who motioned for him to be quiet. John relaxed as soon as he recognized the person, his all too familiar hazel-brown hair verifying his identity.

Ginger Fish.

 _That bastard!_ John thought, disgruntled. The fright he felt had taken a good year off of his life. Even so, he was relieved that it was only Ginger and not some serial killer. Then there was the question of how the drummer got into the room. John hadn't heard anyone enter, which couldn't be the case anyway, as he had locked the door. Could it be that Ginger had been in the room the entire time? The place was dark and poorly lit after all, so it was unlikely for John to have seen the other man. There was one thing that bothered him though; why hadn't Ginger acknowledged his presence when John had announced his?

John thought that was a bit creepy, even for him: a big horror fanatic.

Ginger removed his hand from John's mouth, then he wrapped his arms around his shoulders and embraced him, resting his chin atop John's right shoulder. Feeling at ease, John observed their reflections in the mirror but tensed up again when he finally took notice of Ginger's appearance; namely his face. Ginger was wearing a mask, but not just any facemask, it was his white mask with the reverted black cross. Due to the lack of proper lighting, it gave off the impression of something menacing, like something out of a horror film. John gulped. Despite having seen Ginger like this many times before, he couldn't help but feel unsettled by it. That expressionless face, with those dark, hollow eyes...

John's skin broke out in gooseflesh. He turned his head to Ginger and declared, "What the hell, Ginge? You scared the _bejesus_ out of me. Why—" Ginger pressed a finger to his lips, hushing him from his little rant.

Scowling, John turned his attention back to the mirror. He watched as Ginger moved his hand down to his chest, his fingertips lightly tracing over the lines of his tattoos, resulting in pleasant shivers to run up John's body. He inadvertently moaned as Ginger started to play with each of his nipples, teasing the sensitive flesh until they were hard little nubs. Ginger proceeded to move down to John's abdomen, momentarily massaging the area nicely before continuing down to his waistline. There, he slowly snaked his hand underneath the waist of John's jeans and into his boxers, causing him to gasp.

"Ginger, wait! What are you— _oh_ , Ginger, _no!_ What if—we can't just—" John broke off into a moan as Ginger palmed his growing erection, his head falling back onto Ginger's shoulder. They shouldn't be doing this; this wasn't the time nor place to be engaging in such activities. He wanted to stop things before they escalated further, but when Ginger started to stroke his member, he promptly abandoned the idea. His morality didn't have a chance against lust.

John whined in disappointment when Ginger retracted his hand from his jeans, to which Ginger lightly patted his cheek as if to say 'Now-now,' making him blush. John reached up to remove the mask from Ginger's face, wanting to kiss the man, his fingertips brushing the edges of the mask, but Ginger immediately seized and lowered his hand before he could do so. John stared at him in bewilderment, frowning when Ginger only gave a slow wave of his finger in a no-no motion, as a parent would do when scolding a child.

"You're really into this, aren't you?" John asked, receiving a slow nod in answer, then Ginger tilted his head in a way that John read as 'Problem?' John shook his head, albeit a little disappointed that he wouldn't see _him._ "Have it your way then."

The mask moved just the tiniest bit over Ginger's face, as though the man underneath it pulled off a toothy grin. If John were in a slasher film, he might have been snuffed out in that moment, and the fact that Ginger hadn't spoken yet just added more to the creep factor.

Ginger turned his attention to John's jeans and busied himself with the task of undoing them. He pulled down the zip and popped the button open with ease, then he shoved the offending materials aside and freed John's cock from its confines, rock hard and flushed. Ginger wrapped his slender fingers around the engorged flesh and squeezed it ever so lightly, emitting a groan from John as he did, then he slowly started to move his hand back and forth. John allowed himself to lean back against Ginger, lazily rolling his hips to match the other's movements. On impulse, he grabbed onto Ginger's package, who flinched with a hiss. Feeling triumphant on gaining a reaction from the silent bastard, John put his skillful fingers to work on Ginger's jeans. The belt was effortless, but the task of undoing his jeans singlehandedly was a bit more challenging. Nevertheless, he managed.

All of a sudden, John was swiftly turned and pushed back against the desk. What happened next was all a blur, and before he knew it, he was lying on the vanity completely naked. He stared up at the man above him and almost gasped. Ginger looked just as creepier than before, with his long messy hair hanging loosely over his masked face, creating a series of eerie shadows to streak across his features. This visual should be unsettling to John, but to his utter dismay, he was positively turned on by it. It was moments like this that John knew that something must be seriously wrong with him.

Ginger leaned over John and reached out to grab a bottle amongst the junk on the desk. John watched with lust-blown eyes as Ginger popped the bottle open and squeezed its contents onto his fingers, slicking them with lube. In anticipation for what was to come, John planted his feet on the desk and opened his legs invitingly. Ginger brought his slick fingers down to John's ass and gently prodded his hole, momentarily massaging the tight ring of muscle before pushing in a single digit. John gasped and pushed against Ginger's hand, eager for more. By the time Ginger had added three fingers, John was practically melting into a puddle, mewling and gasping as his lover worked him open.

"Ready," John keened after awhile of prepping, riding Ginger's fingers without shame. "I'm ready."

Pulling out his fingers, Ginger took a moment to apply some lube onto his erection; then he positioned himself at John's entrance. Slowly, he entered him, resulting in John to grimace from the familiar burn. Ginger rubbed his thumb along the wing of John's hipbone as he began to rock his hips back and forth, pushing in little by little with every forward motion. Once he was fully seated, Ginger took a moment to allow John to settle, but John was rolling his hips persistently, permitting Ginger to start moving at once. So he did.

Taking hold of John's hips, Ginger slowly withdrew to the tip, then slammed back in, to which John had to stifle a cry with his fist. Ginger repeated the process, again and again, slow and steady, reducing John into a state of writhing and whimpering. Their coupling gradually grew randy as it progressed, causing the desk to rock under the stress of their union. A few foundations and other assorted items were being disarranged and knocked off its place, some of them falling to the floor in a colourful mess.

Slowly — _so fucking slowly_ , Ginger leaned down to come face to face with John, moving in for a kiss, but John hesitated and turned his head away. Despite wanting a kiss from the man, the thought of kissing a mask made him uncomfortable. He suspected that Ginger knew he'd be put off by that because the bastard let out a quiet amused laugh.

_Fucking tease._

John looked back at Ginger. With their faces only inches apart, he could see a tiny glint of his lover's eyes in those dark voids of the mask, which he found to be eerily lovely. He wrapped his arms around Ginger's shoulders as his thrusts picked up in pace. Their bodies moved in a perfect rhythm, giving each other that extra spark of satisfaction. Then it happened.

"Oh fuck, yes, yes, _right there!_ " John cried, clawing at Ginger's back. Ginger directed his thrusts to hit his spot, again and again, setting off another series of expletives from John's mouth. John panted as beads of sweat formed over his brow, his toes curling from the growing pleasure. He was reaching the point where all he wanted to do was scream, but due to their location, he had to keep his noises to a minimum.

Just as things intensified, there was a quick knock on the door, and the pair jerkily ceased from all sounds and movements, then they looked at the door and waited for a follow-up.

"Hello?" a voice called, a little muffled by the wooden door.

John bared his teeth, taking in mind not to growl like a fucking animal, as he recognized the voice as that of the bassist: Piggy. He was not happy to have been interrupted, but he was thankful that the man had the decency to not barge in like a barbarian, not that he could anyway, seeing as John had locked the door. Bless his feminine tendencies.

Almost in unison, the pair looked away from the door and back at each other. Ginger tilted his head in a manner that seemed as though he were waiting for John to react. John didn't want to, believing that Piggy would go away if they just stayed quiet, but when another rap of knocks filled the room, John had no choice but to respond.

"Yeah?" he yelled with the most casual drawl he could muster, given his status.

"John?" Piggy questioned. "Is that you?"

Just as Piggy finished his question, Ginger rammed deep into John, causing him to gasp loudly.

" _John?_ " Piggy repeated, sounding almost concerned.

"Y-yeah, it's me," John replied, trying to maintain a casual tone, but with Ginger slowly moving in and out of him, it was damn near impossible.

"What are you doing?" Piggy asked, still sounding a bit concerned.

Ginger's thrusts picked up to a certain pace where their movements wouldn't make much noise but still give them a decent level of satisfaction. John bit down on his lip to try and contain whatever lustful sound threatened to escape his mouth.

"Fuck," he moaned quietly. He needed to come up with a tiny fib before Piggy got suspicious. "I'm—I'm getting ready."

Well, he was in some way.

"Still?" Piggy replied incredulously. "Well, you better hurry up and get moving. We still got things to do before the show starts."

" _OH_ —kay!" John squeaked as a particular shove hit his prostate at that moment. Ginger wasn't being helpful.

"All right then," Piggy replied. "Oh, and I can't find Ginger, so if you see him, just come along with him."

 _Oh my god._ John briefly wondered if Piggy already knew what was going on. "Sure, I'll do that."

"Okie-Dokie, see you there," Piggy concluded, then footsteps were heard walking away from the door, signifying his departure.

John let out a long, relieved moan as soon as he was sure that Piggy had left. He was profoundly grateful that his bandmate didn't linger too long. Definitely a quality he liked about him.

"Thanks for the help," John sneered, sarcasm thick in his tone. Ginger only responded with a powerful shove into John, who cried out in both surprise and pleasure. His thrusts increased in speed again, and already, John could feel his orgasm approaching. "Oh fuck, yes, don't stop," he whimpered, the pleasure growing in intensity with every thrust, his climax just within reach. With a hard shove into his prostate, John cried out a series of dirty words as he was overcome with the pleasure of his orgasm, a warm sticky mess spilling over his stomach.

Only Ginger could undo him like that: untouched and with just his cock. _Only him._

Ginger followed John after a few quick thrusts, shuddering with a growl as he released inside him. The pair became still, both letting out slow, heavy breaths as they calmed from their post-orgasmic bliss, neither of them paying mind of their joined bodies. John's face pinched with mild annoyance, the consequences of their preshow copulation coming to fruition. He may need a thorough cleaning after this; preferably before the show.

John automatically went to give Ginger a post-coital kiss but stopped when he remembered that Ginger was still wearing that goddamn mask. His nose wrinkled. John would be damned if he didn't get a passionate kiss after a good fuck like that, so he decided to make a second attempt to remove the mask, but this time with caution, considering what happened the last time he tried to take it off. John lifted the cover from Ginger's face, thankfully without any interference, and pulled it up over his head where he left it. Ginger's sweat-drenched, makeup-free face was a welcoming sight, but it was those big brown eyes of his that John was most happy to see.

"I see you," John whispered with a smile. Ginger smiled back, then leaned in and pressed his lips onto John's, who happily accepted. "Ginge, what the hell was that all about?" John asked after parting from the kiss. He couldn't comprehend what had happened, nor Ginger's behaviour throughout. He vaguely recalled Piggy asking the Magic 8 Ball about something weird occurring, but immediately stomped that thought to the ground. Coincidence.

Ginger didn't say anything. He just stared — then he grinned like a fucking loon, all teeth and twinkling eyes, making it clear to John that he wouldn't be getting an explanation anytime soon. It was evident that Ginger was still under the influence of his strange mood. In hindsight, John should have known that.

He dropped his head onto the desk with a gentle thud, closed his eyes, and sighed with acceptance. "You're such a weirdo."


End file.
